


The Argument

by ausmac



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 17:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a Jedi loses his temper, that's unusual.  When two of them do, that's a quantum step up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Argument

I couldn’t recall ever having been so angry about anything in my life before.  All the lessons, the control mantras, the exercises, meant nothing.  I stormed back home and felt as if small streams of stream should be coming out of my nose.  I was – very – annoyed.

I wished I could have kicked the door open but since it sensed my movement and opened for me I was denied even that small release.  So I satisfied myself with taking my boots off and throwing them across the room.

The door opened again and I felt the cause of my temper enter. 

“Obi-Wan!”

I swung around, pulled off my robe and threw it onto the floor.  “Yes – Master!”

He was angry too.  I’d never used that tone with him before and I saw the spark lighting his eyes, the twitching together of his brows and the way his mouth firmed into an angry frown.  “Temper your tone, Padawan.  Insolence is unacceptable.”

I was practically bounding up and down on the spot.  “Is rudeness acceptable?  It tactlessness acceptable?  Must I stand there and be humiliated and – say – nothing!”

If Yoda had been there, he probably would have hit the both of us with his stick for the anger we were generating.  I was beyond caring.  I wanted to strike him and I’d never wanted that before.  Humiliation can do that to a person.

“You will learn a little civilized control.  You will behave like an adult!  You will not embarrass me in public!”

I snarled, “Get.  Stuffed!”

His eyes narrowed.  “What – did – you – say?”

I repeated it and he stalked towards me, eyes wide, face flushed.  “You are a child.  Perhaps you need to be punished like a child.”

The problem with being Jedi is that when you lose it, you lose it big time.  And part of me, the small rational part, wondered what the hell we were doing getting so annoyed and angry about something so stupid.  It was as if something were driving us both, pushing through barriers, revealing things in this primal out rush of emotion.  I raised my arm to strike at him and he grabbed me with Force-augmented strength and pushed me back against the wall.

I hit the wall so hard I lost my breath.  My head hit with a bang and I yelped at the sudden sharp pain.  His body was pressed against mine, dominating me in a way he never had before.  Controlling me with his superior height and reach, with his great power within the Force.  He forced my head back with one hand, locked my eyes with his.

“Apologise.”  The voice was a hiss, barely recognisable. 

I struggled against him,  tried to kick but he trod on my bare feet with his own booted ones, bore down till I yelped again in pain.  I tried to punch him but his chest was like iron plate and he lowered one hand and captured both my wrists and held them up.  “I said – apologise.  Now.”

I was so angry – he’d never used force with me that way before, never caused me pain.  In any other situation I’d be outraged and hurt, but I was already beyond that, well into fury.  That he meant more to me than my life made it worse.  In spite of rigidly locking my jaw together to stop myself from cursing him again I sobbed, half in furious anger, half in misery as a tear escaped and slid down my face and I cursed myself, cursed him.

He stopped and I realised he was watching my face, watching the tear, looking up to my eyes though I was so disoriented I could barely focus.  Then he bent forward slowly, carefully, and kissed my cheek where the tear had gone, warm lips on the cool damp skin.

I felt like I’d been hit by a stunner.  Instantly, painfully aroused.  Set, obviously, for even more humiliation when he sensed it.  Could life get any worse?

“Let me go.”  My voice shivered on the edge of hysteria.  “Please.  I apologise.  I’m sorry, alright.  Let me go.”

He let my wrists go but didn’t step away and I was suddenly aware of his body heat, his flushed face, the rapid, strong beat of his heart.  And, wonder of wonders, I sensed his emotion at that moment wasn’t anger, wasn’t annoyance or rage or Masterly temper.  It was need.  Pure physical need.

Time stopped.  I know I stopped breathing as I focused on his face, saw the dilated pupils, realised he was shivering.  Trying to leash his body’s reactions, to bring himself back under control.

Some opportunities were too hard to overlook.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I certainly wanted more.  I moved forward and pushed  up against him, shoved the hot aching bulge at my groin into him, dislodged his feet to hook one leg around his knee as leverage.  He hissed and  took hold of my shoulders as if to push me away and instead I found myself pulled forward into his arms.

Bad idea, this was a very bad idea.  He leant forward and I yelped again as he bent and fixed his teeth on my neck and bit down.  He wasn’t being gentle.  “You shouldn’t make me angry, Obi-Wan,” he said, his voice husky as he licked the skin he’d bitten.

Angry, that’s right, we were angry.  About…something…something other than the hand that had travelled around to grasp my arse and pull me into him, squeezing me, moving around again to slide up under my clothing, around my hips, those wonderful big hands running over my hot skin, sliding down between my buttocks, stroking…..

Anger, want, fear, all winding up together, were ignited by his touch.  I wanted him. As a child I’d loved him in innocence.  As a man I wanted him with passion.  I wanted all of him around and in me, the way that only a Jedi lover could be.

What was doubly intoxicating was the knowledge that he wanted me too.  His mouth travelled up my neck, his beard stroking across my face leaving a trail of flushed skin.  While one hand continued to stroke my arse the other moved up to catch my head as it dropped back on a neck suddenly turned to rubber.  He held me in place and I watched in dazed fascination as his mouth touched mine, lips moving, pressing as I tasted him for the first time.  I know I groaned or whined or made some similar pathetic noise as his tongue slid into my mouth.  I certainly wasn’t up to anything more coherent.

His hands shifted, sliding down under my butt and he lifted me, turned with extraordinary co-ordination and moved out of the parlour and into his bedroom.

Now would be a good time to inject some sense into the proceedings.  I thought that as he dropped me onto the bed. I could have escaped easily during  the time he stopped to pull his clothes off, undo and kick off his boots and pull the tie from the back of his hair.  Instead I did nothing, just watched him change into someone I didn’t know with the removal of each piece of clothing.  Qui-Gon Jinn, sedate and placid Master Jedi this was not.  This was…..something else, someone else.

He was beautiful, I realised in a still-orderly part of my mind.  Not  beautiful in the way a woman is, but in a purely male way.  Powerful, his wide chest dusted with silver brown hair, his stomach flat, the rest of him trim and fit.  And I couldn’t avoid seeing the rest of the rest of him either.  He was generously built.  Very generously built…. 

I was still contemplating that aspect of his physique when he bent forward and pulled my belt and sash away from me, tossed them aside and began pulling off my leggings.  I think I made some half-hearted attempt to reason with him, said something like, should we be doing this, Master.  Or at least I started to but the power of reasoned thought vanished in a cloud of pink haze when he bent and took my cock into his mouth.

Did I shout?  I can’t remember.  All the memories are sensory; the feel of his hair brushing over my stomach, his hands wandering up to my chest, stroking nipples, stomach, side, thighs, arse, everywhere in a great wandering exploration.  And the mouth.  All those years of experience had not been wasted, my Master.  He was – and it was – good.  Hot.  Tongue, lips, a touch of teeth.  I expanded into his mouth, filled him, thrust forward and he rode me, knew me, sensed each movement through our link.

He pulled back and I gasped as the cool air hit my throbbing sex.  With a Force-assisted movement he flipped me over onto my stomach and then he was – bending – licking me. 

I didn’t know what to do.  Move up.  Move down.  Move sideways.  Jump and run screaming from the room.  Lay there as his tongue worked its way from balls up between my – and then something else – a finger, slick with my seed, moving inside me, stroking.  I tensed against that deep touch and he soothed me.  After a few moments he bent over, his breath hot on my back.

“I will stop if you wish me too.  Tell me.”

I opened my mouth to say alright, stop, and that finger pushed deeper inside me and stroked something that sent fizzing bolts of pleasure up my arse and into my brain.  Tricky, very tricky.  Offer escape, blind with pleasure.  He knew too much about sex, about how to drive a poor, overwrought Padawan out of his mind…

Obviously, I didn’t say stop.  I buried my face in the quilt and surrendered to the sensations of those strong hands working on me.  The first finger was followed by a second and the pressure increased to the edge of pain.  But he took his time, slowly, working on the muscle until I could take both without trouble, pushing the fingers apart, stretching the muscle gradually, massaging my buttocks and lower back until I grew accustomed to the feel of him.  He pulled out, turned me over and I looked up into his face, studying the familiar features, features that bore only a passing resemblance to the man I’d know for half my life.

The question hung unasked in the air and I bit my lip, scared and aroused.  Nodded, told him yes with every little push and quiver of my body in his grasp.  He lifted my legs, pushed them forward, took my hands and put them behind my knees so that I was holding myself up and open for him.  With a sigh he leant forward and I felt the first touch of the head of his cock pressing against me.

He entered me slowly, so slowly, pausing each time I winced, looking into my eyes, holding me steady until he was completely sheathed in my body.  With a slight change of angle he began to withdraw, then thrust in abruptly.  The tip of his cock nudged that spot again and I arched upwards, pushing myself back against him, my own erection growing again.

It wasn’t completely painless, but then the important things in life need to be paid for in some way.  That first time, that first possession, was a revelation, a life experience begun in anger, carried forward in passion and ended in love.  I would have taken that small pain and more for that, and for the pleasure I gave him in return.

We moved together in that amazing act of sex and love, anger forgotten, reason forgotten, only the joining meaning anything.  We didn’t speak, not actual words, thought I certainly started making quite a lot of noise as my body began its total self-destruction.  I’d never experienced an orgasm like that, never spasmed so hard I nearly dislocated my spine, never felt myself come with something hard inserted inside me so that the muscles of my arse grabbed him and pumped him and he exploded inside me, filled me and collapsed around me so that we lay together like a single animal, a hot, sweaty, completely satiated animal.

When my heart slowed down and my breathing returned to normal and my mind stopped short-circuiting I found him lying across me, his head on my stomach, one hand wrapped around my braid as if to stop himself from sliding away.  I stroked the mass of thick, unruly hair, something I’d always wanted to do, and felt him sigh against my skin.

“About that argument,” I said, and he actually laughed.

“What argument?”

“Exactly.  What argument.”  As his hands began moving again, stroking my thigh absently but with obvious intent, I thought to myself, we really need to reconsider our stance on arguments.  They can be really productive……


End file.
